BDSM prophet stories

you were a clever 23-year-old man, Paul.
"Paul," the man pauses.
"Yes, Paul?" the man keeps touching my hair, as if trying to encourage me to utter the words.
'Yes," the man's eyes are filled with satisfaction.
"Just look at your tassels and those white feathers, gently touching the middle of your thighs, Paul," he grins.
The prophet looks around the room, then suddenly eyes me and asks, "Do you remember how you resisted the change with all your manly might?"
"Paul," the man continues.
"The verdict is right here," the prophet hands me an envelope.
"All you need to know is there, Paul..
Paul, remember that your girlie derriere still belongs to me.